Herald of Ice
by Jocelyn Magus
Summary: Christa is on the run..but from who? Can anyone help her? And whats this power she has? New or older than Valdemar?I suck at summaries, so just read it :)
1. On The Run

**_*~*Just for the record, I own nothing except for Christa. Valdemar, Companions, and everything else is all Misty Lackey's doing, so don't sue me; I'm broke as is.*~*_**   
  
  
Christa was walking slowly through the trees; it was just too cold for her to walk any faster, and if it was hampering her progress, than surely it was hampering her pursuers. She still did not fully understand why it was, exactly, that they were chasing her. Christa had been the daughter of a very well-respected metal smith and a well-renowned embroiderer. But that was before the raid. Now she was just Christa, Wanderer Extraordinaire.  


Maybe that was why they were after her; no one would miss her should she suddenly go missing. The every thought made her shiver and pull her thin cloak tighter around her in a vain attempt to shut out a cold that came, not from the wind outside, but from within her very being. She'd heard enough stories about lone girls who'd suddenly gone missing--only noted as missing because they had never paid their bills from a tavern they'd stayed at.  


          But that was just what she had heard in the tavern as a casual witness. When she'd listened to some more private conversations, she'd found the real stories; that the girls had been plucked off the streets for reasons best left unsaid, then left to die when they were no longer of use. But, oddly, that was all people would say on the subject. They would never go into what actually became of the girls; just that they disappeared and that they themselves were not missed, although their money was.  


          But that was only what the whispers were. The tavern owners complained of the girls running off before they paid or accused them of running off with a young man from the village. At first, Christa had been willing to believe those stories; now, she obviously knew better.  


          I _just don't understand it, she thought as she stumbled over a log hidden by the snow on the ground. __I wasn't even doing __anything. I just walked into the tavern and sat by the fire. The only thing I could have possibly done to attract attention was go off in a daze...but travelers do that often enough after a long day...  
_

          That wasn't even all that odd for her. After a long day of traveling, she would sit by a fire as she ate her meal, then simply relax her mind a little, letting it have free reign for a while as she gazed into space. That was what had happened last night; she'd gone off into her own little world, and only come back to herself when she'd felt eyes on her.  


          She'd surreptitiously looked around and found several men watching her out of the corners of her eyes in a way that made her skin crawl. It wasn't that they were dirty looking, or even ugly. It was their eyes and what she _felt from them. Christa considered herself a good judge of character, usually. These men practically __screamed "Sadist!" at her. There was nothing special about the way they were dressed, or even the way they looked. They were not cleaner than anyone else, nut not dirtier either. They were, in a word, ordinary. __Which is probably the whole point, she thought to herself, bitterly.  
_

          She'd simply left a few coins to cover her meal and gotten up, thinking maybe she had been imagining things; the scrape of chairs on the floor behind her told her she hadn't. That was when she'd had no choice but to make a run for it. She didn't go about it conspicuously, however. She just walked off into the woods at the edge of town.  


 That was last night. Right now it was morning, and she was still walking, and she could tell they were still following, even if she couldn't hear or see them. That was not what scared her, though. What scared her was the fact she had no weapons on her; she'd left the lone sword she'd had back at the tavern in her room, fearing if she'd gone up to get it, they would have cornered her. So now she just kept walking, hoping that soon they would either give up or she would stumble across a town where she could lose them.  


          Christa was numb with cold and fear, and it was still getting colder. She dared a sniff from her long-since-benumbed nose and smelled more snow in the air. She looked at the sky for a moment and made a face at the dark clouds. If it started snowing again, then she would have to stop sooner, and it would make it harder for her to keep going; She was already exhausted from walking since dawn the day before and getting no sleep before walking all last night and into today. It was a miracle, really, that she hadn't collapsed yet.  


          And she had no idea where she was. She hadn't even known the name of the last town she'd been in, and her father had never been there on his travels, so, for all she knew, she could be walking right up to the border of Karse. Or Iftel, for that matter; she didn't know which was where. Hell, she didn't even know where Haven was located.  


          Christa cursed under her breath as the first few flakes fell from the sky and trudged determinedly on. Behind her, the men were hesitating, but she didn't dare stop. The longer the lead on them she had, the more likely it was that they would give up and leave her alone. But that brought up another problem; she was alone. She had no way of knowing where she was or how much farther she had to walk before she happened upon another village. 

_I'm going to die._

The thought was unwanted, and brought a sort of cold panic with it. She really was going to die. If those men didn't catch her, the cold would kill her. If you had asked her when the game of cat and mouse had first begun which would have been worse, she'd have said, without hesitation, the men. Right now, she wasn't so sure. She wasn't simply cold anymore; she was freezing. She was shaking so hard she could barely walk, her body seizing up in painful muscle cramps.  


          Christa managed to take a scant few more blundering steps before she stumbled over her own feet and fell to her hands and knees. After a few moments, she managed to drag herself to her feet, but with a great deal of effort, and only to fall again. The second time she got up much more slowly, and by the third, she couldn't get up at all.  


          She was hardly shaking at all now, and had no more painful cramps. She couldn't really feel much of _anything, truth be told. It was as if she was disconnected from her body, and therefore had nothing to worry about. Her fear of her pursuers faded as she lay down in the snow, in the middle of the path. All she needed was a little rest, and then she could start on toward the next town again.  
_

 Part of her, in the back of her mind, screamed that she couldn't sleep now, but she didn't listen to it. She was too tired, and now she wasn't as cold as she'd been before. Her awareness was slowly receding. As she closed her eyes, she listened to the snow falling around her. 

_I never noticed that snow had a sound before...how odd._

Off in the distance, she could hear a faint jingling sound, like bells being shaken. If she listened a bit harder, she could hear faint thuds. After only a few moments, the thuds were accompanied by the sound of snow crunching--and it was getting faster, and coming closer. 

_Why can't people just let me rest in peace?_

It was getting difficult to think, but she could still manage well enough for simple thoughts.  
Just as she thought that, there was a skidding sound, very close to her. 

_Open your eyes._

She couldn't tell if the thought was hers, or someone else's, but she obeyed, with a great effort. As she got her sight back she realized exactly what it was that she was staring at; a silver hoof. She dragged her gaze upward and met sapphire blue eyes that caught and held her, letting her drown in their warmth. 

_:I am Damon, and I Choose you, Christa.:_

The thought was followed by an unmistakable, irresistible wash of love. Then all she felt was warmth as she closed her eyes again and slipped off into unconsciousness--but not before she had one last thought. 

_It looks like I'm not going to die alone after all_.


	2. Ice Princess

          It was dark...very dark. But something woke her up; simply would not go away. She tried to push it away, but it would not yield. She could hear voices coming from very far away, as if through a thick fog. Since she could not stay in the dark where it was comfortable, she might as well at least wake up enough to tell whoever it was that was talking to shut up so she could get some rest.  
  
          It was easy, really; all she had to do was concentrate on the voices and they got louder and closer, as if the fog were thinning. But the closer she got, the more she hurt. Her entire body felt as if it were on fire, and the closer to waking she got, the more the pain increased. An involuntary whimper escaped her and the voices ceased. The pain in her arm increased briefly as someone touched her wrist--presumably for a pulse.  
  
          By now the voices had started up their whispering again and she could hear snatches of the conversation.  
  
          "....cold....should have died...."  
  
          "Damon....in time....never anything like it....."  
  
          "....so _strong! I never would have thought...."  
  
          Christa couldn't tell if they were the voices of many people, or just a few. Where am I, anyway? Well, to find that out, she first had to remember where she last was....but it was really hard to remember. Almost like a fog obscured those memories. Then she remembered; the road. She'd been running, from....something. No; someone. She had been trying to get away from someone, but it had gotten so cold....so very cold. And she had stopped to rest....then...then...she was Chosen! But no...what Companion would Chose a nameless nobody such as her? She didn't even have a last name; just a first.  
  
          __I must be going crazy, she thought to herself. __How else would I be thinking that a Companion would Chose me__? I should have just died; I'd rather be dead than crazy....  
  
          __:Don't be silly. You are far from crazy, and I definitely don't want you dead__.: Said a soft, yet amused--and distinctly male--voice in her head. Christa actually physically flinched in surprise--which resulted in agony. Her body wasn't on fire; it was in flames. Those weren't needles stabbing her; they were rusty swords.  
  
          :__We can't have you blacking out again; that would be very bad indeed.: The voice said again. And with the voice, came a relief so profound she would have wept had it been possible. __:Ah. Much better, eh?:  
  
          __Yes, she thought fiercely. And now that the pain was gone, she could concentrate on other things. Like opening her eyes to find out where she was exactly, and who was with her. She blocked everything else out and focused solely on just that. It took three tries, but she finally succeeded, blinking slowly several times to clear her much-blurred vision.  
  
          And froze in place once she could see, for there were two people in the room besides her, one sitting on either side of her. But that was not what held her motionless. Oh, no; what held her rock still--if she could have moved before, she couldn't now--was that they both wore whites.  
  
          __By the Gods. I'm in a room with Heralds, and I can't even speak....  
  
          That much was certain; she felt as if her entire throat was a solid block of ice. There was no way she could get any words past that constriction. Her stomach also felt like a pool of ice. As she dragged her gaze away from the two Heralds, she saw she was lying on the floor on a small shack-like little cabin right next to the fire, with anything that could ever have passed for a blanket piled on top of her.  
  
          As she blinked a few more times, the Herald's faces swam into view. One was a girl who looked a few years older than herself, and the other was a man who looked to be in his twenties. The girl had the dark brown hair and hazel eyes of a farmer, and the man had sandy colored, curly hair and eyes to match his companions. Both were striking.  
  
          "I see you're awake now; you had us all very scared for a while, young lady. I am Herald Cathan, and my intern is Herald Elena. My Jesther told me your name is Christa, is that right?" The dark man said with a smile.  
  
          Christa tried to speak, then winced as her throat protested and just settled for a slight nod. Elena was now leaning over to pick up a steaming mug from the floor.  
  
          "Here. Drink this; it should warm you up a bit." She said, then held the cup to Christa's lips as Cathan propped her up.  
  
          She was right; the drink was very nice. Not too sweet, but not bitter and began to warm her up immediately. Christa relaxed her muscles slowly as the tension from the cold began to reside. The pins and needles that had been impaling her entire body were not even half so bad now. It felt more like she'd hit her funny bone lightly and it had spread all over her body.  
  
          "Thank you," Christa managed to choke out in a raspy voice. Now that she was more awake and not quite as cold,(she was only shivering mildly by now) she was able to look at the Heralds more closely.  
  
          __Maybe the Bard's tales about Heralds are true, Christa thought in wonder. __Maybe they are above all the petty things in life. Neither of them has stared at me once....  
  
Christa was used to being looked at askance. At first glance, people usually thought she was albino; she had hair so blonde it was white. But people only thought that until they saw her eyes; no albino could possibly have her silver eyes. They weren't gray, or even hazel, they were silver. Her father used to call her his "Little Ice Princess".  
  
          Christa didn't blame people for staring. After all, it wasn't every day one came across a girl with long, flowing white hair, and eyes that make you shiver simply to look at them. All in all, Christa was used to bracing herself before entering a room, or a new town. She still had to keep reminding herself that she wasn't growing a second nose in the middle of her forehead, or had some sort of crude sign on her back--although that had happened once.  
  
          Christa was just beginning to believe in the Bard's as tellers of the truth, and not just fantasy tale writers when she noticed Elena darting looks at her--no, her hair--out of the corners of her eyes. Something inside her died forever in that instant. Something deep inside her had secretly rejoiced at the thought that Herald's had seen so many odd things in their lives that her appearance would seem like nothing out of the ordinary; that something had just been crushed beyond recognition with that one little look.  
  
          __I'll never be accepted anywhere. Everywhere I go, I'll always be the same thing; a freak. Christa thought bitterly. __And when I get to Haven, I'll be even more of a freak. I'll be wearing gray clothing....my hair will stand out even more. And forget the Whites of a Herald; I'll positively scream freak.  
  
          __:I like you just as you are, Chosen. You will always belong in my heart, if nowhere else in the world. And the Heralds will accept you. They have seen both things and people much stranger than yourself; the Tayledras for example. Or the Gryphons. If you simply say something to Elena, she will stop making you feel uncomfortable: Damon said softly in her mind.  
  
          Christa blinked at the wave of love and warmth sent to her by Damon, and nearly burst into tears at the sense of endless belonging. She took a moment to be sure she could speak without crying before she caught Elena's eyes and held them; no one seemed able to look away unless she let them, and she did not let Elena.  
  
          "I'm not albino, if that's what your thinking. My hair was just....always like this." Christa said softly, though her voice still rasped and her throat hurt a bit to talk.  
  
          "Oh....I'm sorry. I've just never seen hair so white on anyone but an Adept...." Elena said with a blush. "I truly didn't mean anything by my looking, but...you aren't an Adept?"  
  
          "No. I'm not even a Mage," Christa said, felling slightly better. __So that was why she was looking at me so strangely? She thought I might be an Adept? Maybe I will fit in here after all.  
  
          Damon didn't actually say "I told you so," but she definitely got the feeling he wanted to.  
  
          "Well....now that we have the basics down," Cathan said into the silence that had fallen. "We have a few questions for you, young lady. For instance; why were you running yourself into exhaustion in the middle of the forest in the dead of winter?"  
  
          "I was being chased."  
  
          "By whom?"  
  
          "I don't know." Christa said softly, then launched into the whole story, right up until Damon Chose her._


	3. Haven, Here We Come

          Christa woke slowly--a leisure she seldom had. She stayed stone-still as she waited for the fog of sleep to leave her mind. _Well, she thought, __I'm more than a little hot, and by the feel of it, I have about thirty blankets piled on me... Then she remembered. __Everything. The day before she'd been far too exhausted--and cold--to really think about what had happened to her. A whole lot had happened to her in a very short amount of time, really.  
  
          Christa used this time to recap on what had happened. She'd narrowly escaped--whatever it was those awful men in the tavern had planned for her by running, deserting her sword, her only form of protection in the process. She'd run though the forest until exhaustion and cold had caught up with her; and, perhaps the most amazing thing of all--she'd been Chosen. That was what had saved her. Damon had saved her from freezing to death-- though how, she did not know.  
  
          Maybe Elena and Cathan helped him. They had to have been nearby, anyway.  
  
          Now...Elena; she was all right. At least what little Christa had seen of her so far was very nice. The girl was not all that much older than herself, but definitely more sure of herself. She simply carried an easy manner about her that was infectious. Cathan, however...he made her slightly uncomfortable. Not enough to make her want to cringe away, or run out of the room, but enough to make her slightly uneasy around him. That much she'd picked up just yesterday. Regardless of her feeling toward them, though, they'd insisted that she take one of their bed rolls--she wasn't sure who's exactly it had been--and she'd accepted on the sole reason she was far too tired and cold to argue.  
  
          She lay there for a moment more, listening for sounds. There really weren't many to listen to, though. She could hear the snow falling softly onto the roof; the fire next to her--small though it was--crackling, the snort of a horse. But if she listened harder, she could hear the Heralds talking just outside the door. She strained her ears and actually caught a few words.  
  
          "I don't know how to explain it," Elena was saying. "The fire just kept--dying. I had to rebuild it every few minutes. We have almost no matches now, so you'll have to use what little gift you have."  
  
          "I've never seen anything like this either. Yes, it's a good thing I have a small Firestarter ability...if I didn't we might be in toruble," Cathan said.  
  
          "Do you think she might have something to do with it? You said you don't think she's a Firestarter...." Elena said, her voice softer, making Christa strain to hear it.  
  
          "No....it has a different sort of feel to it. It's hard to explain..."Cathan said, sounding genuinely puzzled. Christa had no problem deducing that she was the one they were talking about.  
  
          Christa slowly sat up, throwing the blankets off her; she didn't need them anymore. She was positively boiling under them all. She was just standing--a bit unsteadily--when the two Heralds walked in, their jaws gaping as they saw her on her feet.  
  
          "Well. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Cathan managed to choke out. He seemed utterly flabbergasted to see her on her feet.  
  
          "I feel much better," Christa assured him. "I really cannot thank you enough for helping me. I would have died if you hadn't come....where is Damon?" She looked around, perplexed. There were two companions in a little alcove off to the side of the door, but she was positive neither of them were her Damon.  
  
          "It's our job to save people," Cathan said with a smile, his eyes twinkling. "And Damon is outside communicating with Haven. He wanted to let them know you were on your way so they could get things ready."  
  
          Christa might have had a near-death experience and still been rather sleep-fogged, but she heard the underlying statement to that comment. He was telling her that she was to be off toward Haven very soon, if not today. __I wonder why he's in such a rush to get rid of me. I hope I wasn't all that much trouble....  
  
          __:Not at all, __Chosen__. This is Elena's internship and it's barely even begun. Cathan just wants to be on his way so he can relieve the current Herald of his post. It has nothing to do with your causing them too much trouble.:  
  
          __Oh, Christa thought, mentally kicking herself for not seeing this sooner. __So he just wants to get this assignment over with. I see now...  
  
          "So, I take it I'm off towards Haven today?" Christa asked Cathan with one brow raised. She smiled at his own raised brow. "I might not be the Highborn diplomat you're used to talking with, but I'm not the country bumpkin people assume I must be." She said this with a smile, but she was inwardly almost cringing away from him. After all; he was an experienced Herald and should know better than to simply assume the obvious. Her uneasiness towards him rose another notch.  
  
          "If you think you are ready to travel, we can give you a set of warmer clothing stored here and you can leave for Haven as soon as you're ready." Cathan said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.  
  
          "I can be ready in just a few moments," A soft snort from just outside the door made her pause. "That is, just as soon as I groom Damon." A wicker of approval made them all grin. "So tell me. How long a ride is it from here to Haven?"  
  
          "Only about three days on a Companion. Much longer than that on a regular horse." Elena said, finally deciding to come to life. Christa was trying to think where she would stay during those three days when Elena seemed to read her mind. "There are more waystations just like this one on the way. Damon knows how to find them and where they are well enough."  
  
          There was a soft thump, and the door slowly opened to reveal Damon, shaking snow off his coat and nodding agreement. Then he stomped his foot impatiently and lightly kicked the bucket by the door with the brushes for him in it. Christa laughed softly and bent to pick up the bucket. "All right, all right. I'm going."  
  
                                                                             *         *       *  
  
          An hour later found her standing outside, bundled up in her borrowed clothes--nothing remarkable, really; just thick woolen gray clothing and a heavy, waterproof cloak--with Elena helping her to saddle Damon, who was impeccably groomed. After so many Herald's were Chosen with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and the villages got tired of donating their own clothing, the Queen had decided to provision waystations with Herald-trainee clothing. It was a "neutral" size--which meant Christa was absolutely swimming in them because she was so tiny--but it was warm, and bigger clothing meant more layers.  
  
          Christa was not completely ignorant when it came to riding, but she was no professional. Besides, these saddles were different anyhow. The bridle had no bit and there were straps in all the wrong places.  
  
          :__No, Chosen. There are straps in all the right places. They are as comfortable as they are convenient.: Damon's voice reproved in her head. She was a bit startled every time she heard it, but she was slowly getting used to it. She had a sneaking suspicion that he knew she had to get used to his presence in her head, and that was why he did not speak to her very often.  
  
          Elena was trying to explain to her which strap went where, but after the first few minutes, Christa was so hopelessly lost she just gave up. Currently she was stroking Damon's neck while Elena rambled on about how you had to make sure the straps were tight, yet still comfortable for her Companion.  
  
          "--After all, a grumpy Companion makes for an equally grumpy Herald. Christa do you think you have all that?" Elena straightened and looked at her questioningly, her head tilted slightly to one side. Cathan was in the waystation getting together some provisions for her as well as himself and Elena; they would be leaving at the same time she did.  
  
          "I think I can manage," Christa said, sounding much more confident than she really felt. __Damon, will you help me, pleaseeee__? She thought, aiming it right at Damon, knowing with an unexplainable certainty that he would hear her.  
  
          :__I suppose I'll have to,: he told her with a great mental sigh. __:Or we're both in for a very uncomfortable ride.:  
  
          Christa hoisted herself--gracelessly--into the saddle with a grin. __That was the point. Damon snorted and reared a little, leaving Christa to hold on for dear life.  
  
          "That wasn't very nice!" Christa scolded Damon, trying not to laugh.  
  
          __:You'll get used to it.: Damon said, sounding very amused.  
  
          "You'll have to get used to far more than I will, __Horse." Damon's only response was a full rear, which sent an unprepared Christa tumbling off his back and into a snowdrift. When she got her bearings again, Damon was nuzzling her chest lovingly with his nose to show he was only playing.  
  
          __:I wouldn't count on that just yet, Chosen.:___


	4. The Unleashing of the Beast

          Christa was on the third day of her journey towards the palace, and she didn't like it any more than she had the first--or the second, for that matter. Even with her borrowed clothes layered on to the point where she could barely even move her arms, and here cloak wrapped tightly around her with the hood up, it was bitter cold. It was about midmorning, but they had started out just before dawn, and she never had a chance to get completely warm once they'd left the waystation.  
  
          Currently, Christa was in a kind of daze, not paying attention to where they were going--or anything else for that matter. So when Damon suddenly stopped in the middle of the path, she almost fell from the saddle. He'd been traveling quite fast for a very long time--not that he showed it in any way--so she was quite unprepared for his skidding halt and had to grab the saddle pommel to keep herself from tumbling over Damon's neck.  
  
          "What--?"  
  
          _:Hush__. There's something...wrong.: Damon whispered worriedly in her mind, which worried Christa right away; Damon didn't seem to get worried at all, so whatever it was that disturbed him must be bad.  
  
          Christa strained her ears, trying her best to hear over the roar of the wind and the snow bouncing off her body as well as her surroundings. It was funny, but until now, she'd never noticed exactly how __loud snow was.  
  
          Suddenly Damon shook his head and started forward again--only to be frozen in place. Christa opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, and found herself unable to move. It was as if she were some kind of doll, frozen forever in a position that someone thought she should be in. Immediately, panic began to overwhelm her mind. She could hear Damon, faintly and far off, calling to her, trying to talk to her; the panic drowned him out. His voice was a mere whisper compared to the dull roar of her fear.  
  
          __I'm going to die! her mind thought hysterically. __I'm really going to die this time. Damon can't save me; he can't even save himself. I should have just died the first time! Why can't I move!?  
  
          Then, with no warning at all, a man appeared in the path. Just then she wasn't thinking clearly enough, but later she wondered just how he managed to just appear in front of her, when there had been nothing but snow the moment before. Christa stared at him, her eyes wide with fear--the only part of her she could move besides breathing. Whoever he was, he was quite a remarkable man, power notwithstanding; he was fairly tall for all that he looked maybe two years older than herself, and he had hair that was so dark it looked black. But that was not what scared her so much; not even the power holding her in place could compare with the fear she felt when she looked into his eyes--they were a deep, dark blue--and they were the eyes of a sadist; cold and calculating, they looked as if they never missed anything. And they were focused directly on her.  
  
          "Well....what have we here? Could you be the one that my servants so carelessly let escape?" The man said in a deep tenor that sent chills up and down Christa's spine. "Yes...I think you are. There can't be very many people who look like you, now can there? Just as there aren't many people quite like me." He smiled coldly at Christa, his head tilting slightly to the side. Damon snorted, then went completely rigid underneath her.  
  
          "Oh, don't bother trying __that again, Horse." The man said pleasantly, as if remarking on the weather being foul. "You would not be able to penetrate my shields even if you were not paralyzed, nor can you talk to the girl." The man said pompously. Christa realized with a start, that for the first time since she met Damon, she could not sense him in the back of her mind. Christa felt something stir in the back of her mind, but ignored it, knowing it wasn't Damon and centering herself on the here and now that was right in front of her.  
  
          The man walked slowly and arrogantly to stand beside her stirrup, then slowly looking up at her. He studied her for a moment that lasted an eternity, while a steady pressure built up in the back of her mind. It felt as though there were a tiny trickle in a dam that was quickly having water gather behind it, ready to pound out a larger hole.  
  
          Christa's panic doubled as the man grabbed her arm and yanked her from the saddle, her body involuntarily going limp before she hit the ground. Christa blinked slowly and flexed her half-frozen fingers in relief that she could move again. Some of the panic receded, but the pressure in the back of her mind was almost unbearable.  
  
          "Oh, come now. You wished for freedom, and I gave it to you." The man reprimanded her as if she were a small child who were being foolish for accepting an offered cookie and feeling badly about it. "Now we can talk like normal people," he said cheerfully. "And we just have so much to talk about!"  
  
          Suddenly, Christa felt dread--utter dread. She knew, somehow, that if the pressure in the back of her mind won, she would not be able to stop what it did. And it would do something. She knew that as she had never known anything before in her whole life. And whatever it was, she was not going to like it.  
  
          As the man prattled on about how much they needed to talk and how she was acting so ungrateful about her freedom, she battled to hold back the thing building in her mind. But it was like holding up a large stone wall with just her two hands; futile. Her body went rigid as the tiny hole that had been there exploded, crumbling the entire wall holding it to dust.  
  
          Christa cried out in pain as the back of her mind completely shattered, feeling, for all the world, as if her head were on fire inside. It was nearly unbearable, and the worst part was she couldn't stop it. She heard the man gasp in first surprise, then pain as whatever it was she'd unleashed found and focused on him; he was the one who inflicted pain on her, on Damon, and who would not let her feel Damon, and that made this unleashed--thing--angry. The man was now screaming in agony, but Christa couldn't stop.  
  
          Christa was blind with the snow blowing in her face, which made her panic even more. She couldn't even see where that horrible man was, and whatever it was that has burst form her, did not want to calm down. The man wasn't screaming anymore, but she could still sense him nearby, and very much alive. She frantically grasped for control over this rogue beast inside her, and, surprisingly, got it. She grasped it tightly and forced it on the man who wanted her in pain, who wanted her for some unknown purpose; why else would he come after her when his servants failed other than to use her?  
  
          But it wasn't working very well anymore; whatever it was was slowing down as she got tired, draining her energy. As Christa fumbled with he power, she noticed something else; energy __all around her! All she had to do was use it! She could feel it around her body, under it, over it. She clumsily began sucking in the energy, as a drowning person would suck in air as they broke the surface, then poured that into the man.  
  
          Christa kept that up for quite a while, losing track of time, of the man, even of herself. Then, suddenly, when she was almost completely exhausted, and there was no more energy for her within reach, she stopped, letting the beast inside her crawl back to it's little cave in the back of her mind, utterly exhausted and useless for the time being. She collapsed on her stomach in the snow and closed her eyes. Now was time to relax...but she was forgetting something.  
  
          A cracking sound, and a brittle crunching brought back what she had forgotten; Damon. She mustered her strength and opened her eyes--only to meet Damon's deep sapphire ones, staring soulfully down into hers. And then she felt it; his calming presence in the back of her mind, coming between that--that __thing that was inside her--and herself. And the outpouring of love he sent her was mixed with a bare thread of energy. It was just enough to keep her from falling asleep right there in the cold snow.  
  
          __:Just__ hang on, __Chosen__. Help is almost here, and then we'll be home.: Damon's soft voice whispered in her mind, a soft caress to the scalding pain that seemed if it didn't kill her, would surely make her miserable for the rest of her life. He knelt down and curled his warm body around her, right there in the middle of the path.  
  
          "Hang on," Christa whispered in agreement before she closed her eyes, resting her head against his shoulder. She wouldn't sleep, no, not this time, but she definitely needed rest. And whatever became of that horrid man, she knew he would not bother her or anyone ever again._


	5. New Acquaintances

          Christa was floating in a kind of gray mist. It swirled around her entire body, and while it was not cold, it made her uncomfortable. She had the disconcerting sense of watching a scene with herself in it, though her eyes were most definitely shut. She saw herself, cradled protectively by Damon, on a solid sheet of ice. She was positive it was not snow; it was far too glassy-smooth and reflective.  
  
          But that was not what made Christa shudder inwardly with fear. The ice sprang up abruptly in the very center of the abnormal sheet of ice in an irregular, spiky, crystal-like formation. That in itself was extraordinary, but what made her freeze in horror was that there was a man inside that block of ice. It was, most definitely, her attacker. It did not look like he would be attacking anyone anytime in the near future. Or any future, for that matter. His face was frozen in an arrogant expression of shock and surprise, as if his last thoughts were "How could this happen to me?" It was, in a word, ghastly.  
  
          _Did I do that? Christa asked herself in shock. __No. I couldn't have done that. I'm going to be a Herald, and Herald's don't have Gifts that can do that.  
  
          She shifted her "eyes" away in time to see two Heralds come racing up on their Companions. The Companions skidded to a stop just as they reached the circle of ice, and the Heralds jumped off. One had dark blonde hair and deep blue eyes, while his companion was much shorter than him with red-gold curls tumbling around her face. Both landed gracefully on their feet and half-walked, half-slid their way over to Christa and Damon. Christa felt distantly warmer as she watched the woman wrap her in a blanket, and the man lift her into his arms.  
  
          At the point where the Heralds started talking in hushed voices, and Damon slowly lumbered to his feet, Christa felt her "eyes" straining, and quickly "closed" them. Instantly, the scene faded from her mind, and she was once again enveloped in the mist. Only, this time, it was a cool mist with a comforting presence she knew had to derive from Damon. He was letting her know it was all right to relax now. Well, she wasn't one to disagree with that right now. Christa gave herself up to the mist and let it take her into the blackness.  
  
                                                                             *        *        *  
  
          Christa spent most of her time in the swirling mist. She knew she was safe, and Damon was always a comforting presence in the back of her mind. She also knew that she had quite a few people worried. She could always sense someone in the room with her. She wasn't quite sure how she was sensing them, but she was. And as to where "here" was, well, she could only assume Haven. It was where they had been headed, after all.  
  
          Every once and a while, someone would prod her into a half-wakefulness. Then, she would be half-carried to a bath or the privy, or forced to sit up and eat something. Other than that, she watched in that odd, distorted vision, seeing herself as part of a scene. She "saw" herself in a bed in a small room. No matter how many times she "looked", there was always a Herald in the room with her, or a student in gray clothing.  
  
          After this routine of "looking", waking, and sleeping became quite a habit, Christa awoke one day on her own. She blinked in the dim light coming from the fireplace across from her and took a good look around. The chair next to her bed was occupied by a sleeping boy in gray clothing, who appeared to be perhaps a year or two older than herself. She decided not to wake him just yet.  
  
          Christa slowly moved her eyes around the room, then her head, as she actually took in her surroundings. They were identical to the ones she had been "seeing" while in the mist. __No, not identical. She told herself. __These are__ those same surroundings. But she soon discovered that this just muddled her brain further. She slowly started to sit up, and the boy in the chair next to her woke with a start, as though someone had kicked him, though she'd made hardly a sound. __Maybe they weren't dreams. Maybe I just thought I was dreaming because my brain was so foggy...  
  
          "Oh, so you're awake, are you?" The boy asked her cheerfully, if a bit groggily. He had blue-black hair that fell over one eye with a slight wave, and the most charming blue eyes she had ever seen in her life. They were dark, but where they could have looked sinister, she saw only compassion and a depth that shook her to her core. She couldn't exactly explain why, but she knew, far better than she had ever known anything before, that she could trust this boy. It was almost as if he were a long-lost childhood friend.  
  
          Christa realized she was staring, and shook herself out of her reverie. She managed a shaky smile for him. "Where am I? Am I in Haven?" She asked, surprised at the raspy, unused sound of her voice.  
  
          "Right in the very heart. You are currently in the room you will use while a Herald-Trainee. The Healers said you just needed rest, so we left you to it, helping you where it was needed." He smiled charmingly, faint dimples showing on his cheeks.  
  
          Christa was about to ask him his name when he jumped slightly and laughed. When she stared at him, he took pity on her and explained. "Diana just reminded me that it is custom to give people a name by which to call you, so I apologize. My name is Gabriel."  
  
          "Mine is Christa." Christa managed, thinking Gabriel was a lovely name.  
  
          "Pleased to meet you, Christa. Though I do wish it could have been on much better terms." Gabriel said, flashing her that winning smile once again. After a moment of silence she realized she was staring again--but he was doing the same. The sound of a shuffle from outside her door snapped her out of the trance she'd been in, and she glanced quickly at the door before her gaze slid back to Gabriel suspiciously.  
  
          "Why did you say you were in here again?" Christa asked, allowing the tiniest ounce of suspicion to enter her voice. Gabriel smiled at her brightly, and for the life of her, Christa could not tell if he was truly sincere with his answer, or if he was a superb liar.  
  
          "I'm here to make sure no one disturbed you until you woke, and to see if there was anything you needed."  
  
          "I see." Christa said cautiously. She didn't think he was lying, but he just might not know anything other than what he'd told her. It was at that moment that Christa put a few things together in her slowly clearing brain. __If I wasn't dreaming before, then that man...that horrible man.... Christa felt her expression ice over as the blood drained from her face.  
  
          "Are you all right?" Gabriel asked in real concern, standing and taking a hesitant step towards her.  
  
          "I...What happened to the man? What did they do with him?" Christa asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.  
  
          "What happened to whom? There was no one with you when you were brought in." Gabriel was frowning now, his brows drawing together in consternation.  
  
          __He doesn't know. No one told him. I guess this is supposed to be a secret....but why?  
  
          :Because you are special, __Chosen__, and many very evil people would love nothing more than to see to it that you were no longer around.: Damon's voice sounded in her mind, cool and reasonable. Christa visibly jumped, having forgotten that Damon could bespeak her like that.  
  
          __But he would never hurt me. He's going to be a Herald!  
  
          __:There are reasons why no one has been told as of yet, Chosen.: Damon replied sternly. Christa hated to be told what to do, by a Companion, or otherwise.  
  
          "Gabriel--"  
  
          "Gabe, please. No one ever calls me Gabriel unless I'm in trouble, or it's a formal occasion. "Gabriel said, interrupting her and flashing that dazzling smile again.  
  
          "All right, Gabe then; what are your Gifts?" Christa said, feeling an answering smile tug at her lips.  
  
          Gabe seemed more than a little taken aback at her bluntness, but replied with that special smile on his face. "I have a mortal strong Mage Gift, a strong Foresight Gift, an equally strong Firestarter Gift, and adequate Mindspeech." This announcement left Christa a little breathless. She didn't know very much about Heralds, but she knew that they usually only had about two or three Gifts, sometimes even one. Gabe had __four. "I heard one of your Gifts broke lose. Do you know what your Gifts are?" Gabe asked gently. __That's interesting, Christa thought. __He knows my Gift broke lose, but not anything about it other than it might be a touchy subject.  
  
          "I...I'm really not sure. I might be a Mage, I guess..." Christa said hesitantly, feeling the place in her mind where Damon resided tense abruptly and give her the equivalent of a mental kick, sending her sprawling over the side of the bed. Luckily, her brain wasn't so fogged she couldn't get a grip on the bedpost and save herself. "Damon! That was not nice!" She yelled at the air, without thinking. As soon as she realized she'd spoken aloud, she turned an embarrassingly bright shade of crimson and shot a guilty look at Gabe. But Gabe only grinned at her.  
  
          "Damon is your Companion, I'll wager? Gave you a little shove, did he? I take it no one is supposed to know about your Gift?" Gabe said, his eyes showing he understood. "Usually First Years at the Collegium don't know what their Gifts are. You don't get them trained until usually the Fourth or Fifth years, and that's when you find out. If your Gift is so strong now, the Heralds might even block it until they feel you have the skill you need to control it."  
  
          "I don't think they could do that in this case..." Christa said softly, after a moment of thoughtful silence. She'd never heard of a Gift like the one she had. How would she learn to control her Gift if there was no one around who could teach it? Visions of herself, a full Herald, and out on the job sprang to her mind. People startling her, or trying to attack her suddenly turning to ice. What if she had a nightmare and she accidentally did that to someone? Damon would repudiate her, that's what. She would be the second Herald in the history of all of Valdemar to have her Companion repudiate them. She most certainly did not want to be another Tylendel.  
  
          :__You won't__ be, Chosen. I love you, and I would never__ leave you. Gala made a mistake when she repudiated her __Chosen__. That is a mistake no Companion will ever make again. I will always be here for you, Christa. Never forget that.: Damon's voice swept through the hot turmoil in her mind like a cool, refreshing wind.  
  
          Gabe was watching her as if he were waiting for her to elaborate, but at the moment when she could have, there was a soft knock on her door. As Christa's eyes moved to the door, it opened to reveal a pretty woman in pristine Whites. She was about average height for a woman of her age--about 40, Christa guessed--and she moved with the grace of a predator. Her amber-colored eyes looked from Christa to Gabe in an assessing way, before locking on Christa. She tossed her loose, dark curls over her shoulder as she stepped into the room.  
  
          "I hope you'll pardon my intrusion, but we really must talk. I already know that you are Christa, so let me introduce myself to you. I am Herald Donelle, the current Queen's Own. Gabriel, you may go back to your duties now. I can take it from here." Donelle said to Christa, with that last addressed to Gabe. Christa remembered what Gabe had said about no one calling him Gabriel unless he was in trouble or the situation was formal. It was obvious he wasn't in trouble, so this must be a formal occasion. Then again, she __was the Queen's Own. Maybe she's never on an informal basis with anyone. Then a colder thought replaced that one, as Gabe nodded, bowing formally to Donelle before taking himself out and quietly closing the door behind him.  
  
          __Maybe __I'm in trouble. I did kill that man. I didn't mean to--at least I don't think I did--but it was still murder, and that is most definitely against Valdemarian law. Christa felt all the remaining blood drain from her face. __She's come to take me away from Damon and tell me that I can't be a Herald. She's come to tell me I'm to be sentenced to death.  
  
          __:Chosen, you are being quite irrational. She cannot take you away from me; I simply will not let her. I told you before, but I will say it again. I will never, ever leave you. Not for anything. Donelle is the Queen's Own, which means she has a Companion of her own. She knows very well that it is not possible to separate a Herald from their Companion. It is a very painful ordeal for both parties involved. Not to mention I would kick in her knee caps for attempting such a thing, regardless of what her Taver would do to __me.__: Damon's "tone" was stern, and Christa couldn't help but believe every word he said. She didn't think it was even possible to lie mind-to-mind like this.  
  
          "Now, " Donelle was saying, taking a seat in the chair Gabe had vacated after turning it to face the bed. "About this Gift of yours."_


	6. Politic Dancing

          "So, let me see if I understand." Christa said after Donelle had finished her explanation. It couldn't have been called a conversation, because she had been the only one talking. Christa had just sat there in silence for the entire time. Donelle had explained the best she could to Christa why her real Gift should be kept a secret, but Christa wanted to make sure she understood correctly before she blundered something terribly. "As far as everyone is concerned--with the exception of myself, you, and the Queen and Consort--I lost control of my Firestarting Gift, and that is what killed that horrible man that attacked me."  
  
          "Yes, exactly." Donelle said with a faint smile, a smile Christa did not return. In all the candlemarks already spent in this discussion--it was close to noon now--Donelle still had not told Christa what her Gift truly was. She had hinted that it was something powerful, and not unlike Firestarting, but Christa knew it was _not Firestarting. Nothing had been burned; it had been frozen. Christa was tired, tired of being led in diplomatic circles. Every time she asked a subtle question pertaining to her Gift, Donelle would dance around it, knowing the entire while that Christa would not be so rude as to flat-out demand an answer of someone with more political power than she could ever hope to hold. It was that belief that Christa decided to use against the poor Herald now.  
  
          "What I don't understand," Christa began in a sharper tone, meeting and holding the shocked Heralds startled eyes. "Is what my Gift is. You keep telling me it is just like Firestarting, that it is extremely powerful and even more rare than Empathy or Mage-Gift. What you aren't telling me is exactly what it is." Christa paused for breath, but when Donelle opened her mouth, once again in control, her face a mask, Christa simply talked over her. "I don't want to hear that it is rare, or dangerous, or that it is almost unheard of. I want to hear something I can recognize, like the name of this particular Gift. I cannot be expected to hold back--__forget training--a Gift I know nothing about! What am I supposed to do if someone startles me when I'm jumpy? Blast them with--with-- whatever this __is? I refuse to believe that knowledgeable people such as yourselves would leave a potentially dangerous Gift untrained and lose because the captor of that Gift is unknowledgeable of anything about it." Christa, her speech over, leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest, still holding Donelle's gaze challengingly.  
  
          Donelle sat in silence for a while, locked in a staring match with Christa. It was a battle of wills, and to see which would break first; the loser would be the first to look away. After half a mark, it was actually Christa who won. Donelle shifted her gaze to a point on the wall in back of Christa and finally broke the silence. "I suppose I owe you that much at least, but the truth is we don't know much about your Gift ourselves. I meant it when I said it was extremely rare. We aren't even sure how rare, exactly." Donelle ran a hand back through her hair, a gesture that Christa felt was a nervous habit. Donelle was scared, but either for Christa, or her Gift, or what either could do to others, Christa did not know.  
  
          "I do promise you," Donelle continued. "That when we find out anything about your Gift, we will let you know. In the meantime, as soon as you're fit to work, we'll assign you chores like all the other Trainees, and you will start learning under Herald Iliana; she's the Herald with the strongest Firestarting Gift, and she will be told of your...unusual Gift and not to say anything about it." Donelle paused, waiting for Christa to say something, then continuing when she didn't. "The Healers say that they've Healed your Channels for you, but you'll still be abed for another three days. I'll send someone over then to take you around."  
  
          Donelle stood, and Christa was relieved. Even when she'd surprised the Queen's Own, she still got no answers. Either Donelle was being perfectly sincere when she said no one knew what Christa's Gift was, or she was a superb liar. Christa thought it was the latter. After all, Heralds swam in politics their whole lives, and while they might do things for the greater good all the time, the greater good didn't always involve the truth.  
  
          Donelle paused at the door with her hand on the knob. "Gabriel is probably coming back later, but other than him, no one will bother you. We have guards posted outside your door to prevent anyone from barging in on you while you're untrained." With that said, she walked out the door and quietly closed it behind her.  
  
                                                                             *        *         *  
  
          Three times, Christa had tried to leave her room, and three times, she'd been denied. She'd waited about a mark after Donelle left to go to the bathing room, only to be stopped by the guards and have a bath brought to her. That had left her thoroughly frustrated. The second time, she'd had to use the privy, only to have a convenience brought to her. That had left her both angry and embarrassed. The third was when she'd wanted to stretch her legs, and had been denied simply with an answer of "The Healers said to keep you in bed." That last had only happened mere moments ago, and Christa was seething with rage.  
  
          :__Calm down, __Chosen__. It's not so bad. They are not all against you.: Damon said in her mind, as he had the past few times she'd run into this obstacle. But even he sounded annoyed, and, anyway, it was too much. Christa was about ready to start screaming in frustration and anger. She was a prisoner here! She could not go anywhere!  
  
          Christa looked out the single window in her room, and into the darkness. Dusk had fallen about a candlemark ago, and it was dark enough to obscure vision. Suddenly, Christa had an idea. She walked over to the window and looked down. She'd been staring out the window all day--it was the only thing she could do. Now, she judged the distance from her window to the ground. She was on the first floor, but the ground outside her window was sloped down a bit. She could jump down, but Damon would have to help her get back inside. Even if she stood on her tiptoes and jumped, she couldn't reach it.  
  
          Christa pulled the window up slowly, so it wouldn't make much of a noise and alert her captors. The window slid up easily, and Christa eased herself onto it. __It actually isn't that bad of a drop, she thought as she edged herself closer to the edge of the window sill. __I jumped out of my room at that stupid inn where that drunk wanted to get in my pants, and that was on the second floor. With that thought in mind, Christa jumped, landing in the snow with a soft crunch, and dropping to one knee to absorb the impact.  
  
          A strong gust of cold wind blew at Christa, nearly knocking her over, reminding her that she had carelessly forgotten a cloak, and that all she was wearing was the gray clothing left for her that was identical to the clothing Gabriel had been wearing. __Oh well, too late now. Christa thought cheerfully. __It's my own fault if I get sick, but at least I don't feel so trapped anymore.  
  
          She had just begun contemplating what to do next when a shining shape materialized out of the darkness. Christa crouched down even lower and slunk back into the deeper shadows, like her fathers Mercenary friends had taught her so long ago. But a moment later, she heard an amused snort, and got the distinct impression of Damon laughing in her mind. She sighed softly and stood up slowly, wincing as another blast of cold air hit her full in the face.  
  
          __:You do realize, Chosen, that if you get sick you'll just get stuck in that room longer, don't you?: Damon said in her mind as he walked up close to her and nuzzled her face with his nose, conveniently positioning himself to block her from the worst of the wind.  
  
          All of Donelle's talk about Gift's today had gotten Christa to thinking, and Damon's talking to her right now just reminded her of one of her questions.  
  
          "Damon, do I have Mindspeech?" Christa asked, leaning her forehead against his and staring--or trying to--into his eyes. Damon was silent for a moment, not even his tail twitching. Just when she thought he was not going to answer her, he did.  
  
          :__Yes, you have Mindspeech. You have both types, where you can receive thoughts as well as broadcast them.: Damon replied, his "tone" gentle. Christa had the feeling he had been consulting with someone in his silence. She didn't want to press her luck, but she wanted answers so badly....  
  
          "What other Gifts do I have, Damon?" She kept her forehead against his, but he pulled away and swung around so his side was facing her.  
  
          :__It's too cold out here. Climb on and we'll go into the stables.: Christa, not bothering to hide her disappointment--very close to despair-- grabbed a handful f his mane and scrambled up onto his back. As soon as she settled herself, Damon launched toward what she could only presume was the stables at the fastest canter she'd ever experienced. Christa clung to his mane with benumbed fingers. It was only a few moments ride to the stables, but by the time they reached their destination, Christa was shivering so hard she was sure if her fingers were not frozen in his mane, she would have fallen off.  
  
          Damon did not pause at the stable doors and wait for her to dismount, but walked straight into the stable doors and right up beside a brazier, startling the stable boy that had been huddled next to it. Damon got to his knees then lay down so Christa was closer to the fire. Instead of getting off, Christa pried her frozen fingers lose from Damon's mane and shifted her weight back a bit so she could lay down with her cheek on his neck. Once she'd settled, Damon snorted.  
  
          __:I am not__ a pillow. I am a Companion, and I am being degraded as well as abused.: Christa, remembering what Damon had told her before, decided to try her hand at broadcasting her thoughts. She carefully formed words in her head and thought them directly at Damon.  
  
          __:Oh hush up. You'll get used to it.: Damon's head jerked up and he twisted his neck t look at her. But Christa, already in a dangerously unbalanced position, rolled right off his back and onto the floor. Christa didn't even bother trying to get up, she just laid there on her stomach, her long white hair covering her face. She looked, in all respects, like someone who'd been thrown from the saddle. It was about then that she realized the stable boy had disappeared. __:Where did he disappear to?: Christa asked, knowing Damon would know who she meant--and the fact that she had obviously startled him by "speaking" the way he did, well, that was just an added bonus.  
  
          __:He went up to the hayloft with his friends.: There was a slight pause during which Christa simply soaked up the warmth from the brazier, almost pulling it into her. After a few moments she stopped shivering, but it felt so good to be warm, she just kept pulling it into her....and suddenly, it stopped. It was as if a wall snapped up right in her face and she crashed against it. She hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes, but she now snapped them open to meet Damon's blue ones.  
  
          "What--?"Christa began, but Damon cut her off.  
  
          :__You no longer need to be so warm. There is no need for you to draw on it so. Until you are at least partially trained in your Gift, every time you draw energy into you like that, and it is not needed, I will stop you like I just did.: Damon's tone was as stern as it was serious. Christa felt like a puppy that had done wrong unknowingly, but was being reprimanded anyway. Just as she was about to voice her indignation, she felt soft vibrations and heard a bell-like chime that could only mean another Companion's entrance. Christa sat up as quickly as she could without passing out from all the blood rushing to her head, and looked over to see a very surprised Gabe standing with his hand on a Companion's neck.  
  
          "What are you doing out here?" Gabe asked, obviously shocked to see her out of bed so soon.  
  
          "I am having a conversation with my Companion. You may join if you like," Christa said, smiling sweetly up at him with her head tilted to the side._


	7. Showdown in the Stables

Author's Notes: All right, I know I've been quite a bit more than slow, but I didn't know where to go from that point, and, as you can see by this ridiculously short chapter, I'm _still unsure of where I'm taking this next. I know where I want it to end up, but I know nothing of the journey in between the start and the finish. Again, I apologize for taking so long, but I hope I'm going to be keeping up with __both the stories now. And __please tell me if you like or dislike the story. Reviews work wonders for my self esteem, and a happy author is a fast author! J_

            Gabe had acted odd when he first happened upon her, but after his Companion nudged him forward and he fell, sprawling against a very indignant Damon—again complaining he was being degraded and abused—Christa got him to confess that even he knew that she was not to be let out of her room until her training was well under way. They were deep into that very discussion when they heard hurried footsteps right outside the Stables.

            "If I were a Trainee and _I wanted out, I'd bet my life that my Companion would want to spend that time with me. I'm __telling you, Ruben, she's in the Stables." A gruff, old voice sounded just on the other side of the wall. They actually heard a creak of wood as someone leaned on it._

            "I don't think she would stick around, Garther. She probably hopped on her Companion and want out into the Field to hide in some alcove. That's what _I would do." A younger voice responded, sounding very sure of himself._

            "Well, we're right here, so there's no harm in looking now. Besides, we can warm ourselves up for a moment before charging back out into the cold if she's not there," Garther said stubbornly. Apparently he knew just the buttons to push on Ruben, because his reply was almost instantaneous.

            "Yes, I suppose there's no harm in looking anyway." Ruben replied, obviously wanting any excuse to get out of the cold. Christa shot a stunned look at Gabe, who frowned before quickly taking her by the arm and propelling her into Alina's stall. Damon quickly gathered what he was doing and lumbered to his feet, kicking the hay back in place soundlessly before clomping into this own stall to munch hay absently. Alina shifted her body so that most of her bulk was between Christa and the stall entrance, while Gabe snatched up a currycomb and began worrying at Alina's coat. He hadn't gotten more than three strokes in before she heard the two guards enter the stables. She snuggled down into the straw as much as she could, hiding her head behind Alina's rump, where here white hair would seem part of the Companion's silvery tail.

            "Boy, have you seen a young Trainee with whitish hair? She's rather stumpy but thin-like. She's rather new, so I doubt you've seen her before." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gabe stop his brushing and look towards the doorway. He had a pleasantly inquiring look on his face that made Christa's heart throb painfully once before returning to normal. _He looks so handsome… She thought quietly, hoping Damon didn't hear; if he did, he made no comment._

            "I don't believe so. I've been here for almost a mark now, and I must say it's been quite deserted," Gabe said smoothly. Christa shrank back just a little, Alina shifting again to hide her better, as she heard the footsteps of the men coming closer.

            "It doesn't look to me lie you've been grooming that there Companion for a mark, boy." Garther said roughly, with a suspicious edge to his voice. Christa could see Gabe's face harden just a bit; his eyes getting cold, but he answered in a polite enough tone.

            "Well, Sir, I've been talking to my Companion. She just deemed it right to inform me a few moments ago that she would like to be brushed." He answered softly as Alina's head swung to the guards and she nodded with a snort.

            "Ah well, if you see that girl, be sure to send her back to the palace. She needs her rest and to be trained, neither of which she's going to get while gallivanting about." Ruben said, shuffling his feet a bit.

            "I didn't hear no talking going on in here, boy," Garther said gruffly.

            "I have the Gift of Mindspeech, Sir," Gabe said, sounding vaguely as if he were reminding a child that it had said something stupid.

            "Right. Sorry, then, boy. Carry on, but like Ruben here said, be sure to send the girl to us if you see her." Garther did not sound sorry at all. Christa could hear the two walk out, Ruben complaining about the cold. When even their crunching footsteps faded away, Gabe turned to peer in at Christa.

            "That was a really close call. I think we'd better get you back to your room. Is there any way to get you back in without stirring up the entire Collegium?" Gabe mused, trying to think of what they would do.

            "I climbed out the window," Christa said as she stood up, trying to brush straw off herself. Alina moved to the side as she stumbled out of the stall. "I could try to get back in that way, I just hope no one is in there waiting for me. If I've been missed, they're obviously going to want to know where I am, which means they're waiting for me _somewhere. Probably everywhere." Christa turned to Alina with a smile, pausing long enough in getting the straw off herself to run her fingers through her silky mane. "Thank you so much. I really don't want to go back just yet. I feel like such a prisoner in that room. They wouldn't let me go to the bathing room, the privy, anywhere. I just needed to get out for a while." Alina whickered softly and nuzzled her chest. _

            "I wonder why they have you under guard like that. No doubt the ones guarding you got a tongue lashing to remember for years to come." Gabe said from behind her. She felt a slight pull at the back of her head as he combed out some straw, then she felt his hand run lightly down the length of her hair, clear to her waist. Christa fought down a shiver and turned around slowly.

            "I don't know. They won't tell me anything," Christa murmured as she gazed up into his eyes, feeling as if she could drown in them. Gabe was looking at her in a way she knew was a bit more than friendly, but she couldn't seem to move or speak.  His hand went to her cheek, his head slowly bending toward her face with his lips slightly parted. It seemed to take an eternity, and Christa instinctively knew that when their lips touched, something would happen, something wonderful. But just when their lips would have touched, there was a sound near the doorway, and Christa and Gabe both snapped their heads around to see a very angry Donelle staring at the two of them in dismay.

            "After our talk, Christa, I would have thought you understood enough to listen to our orders and trust in our judgment. And yet, here I find you, in the deserted stables trysting with no regard to orders placed with your—as well as everyone else's—well being in mind." Then Donelle shifted her gaze to Gabe. "And you—I thought I made it clear that you were to watch over her, not lead her about to run amok. You were to make sure she was all right, and then, upon your request, keep her company. But I see you cannot even manage the former, and I now see the underlying reason for the latter. You are hereby to stay clear of Trainee Christa until she has had the proper training for someone of her Gifts." She probably would have said more, but Christa, becoming slowly enraged throughout this little speech, cut her off.

            "How _dare you accuse us of trysting, when you only interrupted what would have been a harmless kiss. As for my trusting your judgment, as far as training goes that is true, but I do know what is good for my own well being, and being locked up in solitude in one single room like a princess from some tale, never seen but heard of, is ridiculous. I need to be out in the world. Did it ever occur to you that I might be afraid of enclosed spaces? I could have passed out from fright, were that the case. As it was, I was feeling restricted and confined, and in desperate need of a little walk. You don't even know what my Gift __is, let alone how to train it. In the meantime, as long as no one tries to kidnap of kill me again, I think everyone is safe. Now let me do as I wish, or I will surely explode again if you keep me confined, out of sheer rage and frustration!" Christa said all this with barely a pause for breath, and knew, when she was done, that her face was red, her eyes a cold, angry steel. She caught and held Donelle's eyes, but this time, the woman looked forlorn, her eyes cast rapidly from Christa to Gabe and back._

            "Gabriel, you must never speak of this. Do you understand me? Never. What you just heard, you put to the back of your mind as if it never happened, or there will be a great price to pay for all involved, and it will be well out of my hands, as well as the King and Queen. Christa, this is neither the time nor the place for such discussions. I hope that in the future such things can be said in private and not out where they can have dangerous repercussions. I do apologize, however, that I acted like a barbarian by locking you up like I did. You are completely right, and deserve every privilege that every other Trainee has. I will have the guards removed form you door, but you must agree to tell me or the King or Queen—and now Gabe if he is more convenient—if you feel strangely. If anything in your head feels as it did when you used your Gift. Can you do that?" Donelle's eyes were pleading with Christa to agree.

            "I will, I promise. But I hope there will be no need for this discussion in the future." That answer seemed sufficient for Donelle who nodded, and, with a slight hesitation as she glanced at Gabe, walked out the door without further ado.

            There was an embarrassed silence inside the stables, during which Damon and Alina looked silently at their Chosen, before Gabe burst out. "I'm so sorry about that, Christa. I never meant to get you in trouble. I don't know what came over me…" He almost seemed to be speaking to himself.

            "There's nothing to apologize for, Gabe. What would have happened was—mutual," Christa said, blushing. She discovered she liked Gabe very much, though after such a short time, she didn't know how that was possible.

            "Well…I'm sorry for that too, but I meant about Donelle. Sometimes she can get…overprotective." Gabe said, sounding sheepish.

            "Overprotective," Christa asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

            "I don't suppose she told you before, considering how things were, but Donelle is my mother."


End file.
